


Mind Your Ps and Qs

by Tolstoyevsky



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Continuum Lore, Data and Troi know what's up, Episode: s07e24 Preemptive Strike, Five Act Structure, Friendship, Keeping Up With the Cardassians, Love, M/M, Mentions of DS9 characters, Pining, Post-Episode: s07e25-26 All Good Things..., Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-02-07 09:49:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12838629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tolstoyevsky/pseuds/Tolstoyevsky
Summary: Set post-TNG. After Picard solves the Continuum's last test for humanity, he thinks that will be the last time he ever sees Q. He is wrong. The question is, what does Q want, now that humanity's trial is over?11/10/18: Super busy, but I promise the chapter is in the works. <3





	1. Act I, Scene One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! You may know me from my _Yuri!! On Ice_ fics, or you may just be here because you love Star Trek: TNG and enjoy seeing these two constantly try to get a leg up on each other. ~~That's how the Q show love <3~~ In any case, I hope you enjoy this story about everyone's favorite starship captain, and the interdimensional trickster god that just won't go away for good.
> 
> (And also, some Cardassians.)

_Captain’s log, Stardate 48075.1. We are en route to the Demilitarized Zone to address a skirmish between the Cardassian Empire and the rebel group known as the Maquis. Gul Evek, overseer of the zone, awaits us onboard his ship, the Vetar. Meanwhile, I have been delayed in my work by an unexpected presence. ___

Barely a month ago, Captain Jean-Luc Picard had prevented the destruction of humanity, and since then, he’d had plenty of time to think. Some would say too much time, but for Picard there was no such thing – not when he’d shifted through time to stop a spatial anomaly from preventing the formation of life on earth. That kind of experience sobered a man, showed him how precious each moment of life was. For Picard, that realization manifested itself in many ways: joining the senior staff for their poker games, spending more time playing his flute, and getting good sleep so he didn’t regret it the next morning.  


There was one thing, however, that still kept Picard up at night, more so than the nightly cup of Earl Grey tea he’d recently relinquished.  


The anomaly had never existed in the first place.  


It had all been a test, a fabrication by the Q continuum to see whether humanity still had the capacity to evolve. What Picard had really done, in stopping the anomaly, was solve one big intertemporal puzzle. A brainteaser created by an omnipotent species. It had never been so salient to Picard that the Continuum could destroy his species with the wave of a hand. The future of humanity, at the whims of the Q.  


And yet Q – the Q he knew, who first introduced himself when he put humanity on trial in a 21st-century courtroom – had helped Picard. He was the one responsible for shifting Picard through time, a phenomenon that had ultimately helped him solve the puzzle of the anomaly.  


This was the same entity who sent his ship spiraling into Borg Space, who terrorized Picard and his crew with visions of Napoleonic soldiers and dropped them into a deadly fantasy of Sherwood Forest, who appeared in Picard’s dreams when he was dying and offered him the chance to change his past. After Picard had stopped the anomaly, Q had brought him back to the courtroom where he’d condemned humanity – this time, to congratulate him. Picard learned something from every encounter he’d had with Q, but he wasn’t sure he needed those experiences in the first place.  


He was walking through the corridor after a shift on the bridge, when the events of last month began replaying in his mind.  


And when the captain finally arrived at his quarters, and the doors opened at his command, he realized that someone else was already there.  


When he’d found himself in that god-awful courtroom for the second time, Picard had sincerely thought it would be the last he would ever see of Q. Even when he’d said that he might visit the Enterprise from time to time, Picard hadn’t expected the entity to make good on his promise. Q had delivered a speech that felt like a farewell, gaze burning a hole into Picard’s vision as he leaned in, breath ghosting along the tip of his ear, slowly raising himself up before he sat back down on his judge’s chair and vanished into the surrounding darkness. _See you out there_ , he’d said. It made such a perfect dénouement to his entire ordeal with Q that Picard couldn’t be blamed for thinking that the entity’s statement had been rhetorical.  


Yet here was Q, lounging on his sofa, flipping through Picard’s Shakespeare tome with a leisurely smile on his face. When he did glance up at the starship captain, it was almost as if Picard were an afterthought, secondary in importance to whatever play he was reading at the moment. But Q had never cared much for Shakespeare.  


“Ah, I was wondering when you would show up, Jean-Luc. This ‘Romeo’ character is really starting to get on my nerves.”  


For a moment, Picard stood in the doorway, his eyes wide and his mouth half-open as he struggled to form a coherent sentence. To an omnipotent being like Q, he must have looked rather like the fish in his ready room.  


“Q… You –“  


“Surprise.” The entity grinned and set the book down on the sofa. “I told you I’d stop by to see you again.”  


Picard seemed to regain his composure as he stepped inside, the door to his quarters sliding shut behind him.  


“Q, what is it? Is there something wrong?” He demanded.  


A moue of disappointment.  


“Really, Jean-Luc. It’s ‘Get off my ship,’ _then_ ‘Is there something wrong?’” Stick to the script, would you?”  


“Is there a reason for your being here?”  


“Wouldn’t you like to know?”  


Picard sighed – and that, at least, felt on cue, because Q was exasperating.  


“If you’re here to continue with your trial of humanity, then at least tell me, so I can alert the crew.”  


Q looked baffled, if such a thing was possible. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.  


“What? No, it’s nothing like that. I told you, the Continuum was satisfied with your work in solving the temporal anomaly.”  


Picard nodded. He felt the tension drain from his shoulders, and he realized belatedly that he’d been frightened. Not of Q himself, but of the chaos that had always followed in his wake. The prospect of an altercation with the Continuum or the Borg was not palatable to Picard; the Captain had not made room in his schedule to confront another near-extinction event for humanity.  


“This is just a courtesy call, then?” He ventured.  


The corners of Q’s mouth quirked up into a smile.  


“Yes, you could say that.”  


_How unprecedented_ , Picard thought ruefully.  


“Well, I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Q, but I’m afraid you’ve caught me on a bad day. The Cardassians have contacted Starfleet about a border struggle with the Maquis, and the Enterprise has been called to intervene. I don’t have time to socialize.”  


“Didn’t one of your officers join the Maquis? Your old friend Ro Laren, wasn’t it?”  


He bristled at the mention of Ro, the Bajoran ex-officer who’d left Starfleet to help the Maquis rebels in their fight against Cardassian occupation. Ro had watched a Cardassian officer kill her father, when she was a child. She had struggled with obeying orders in Starfleet, but Picard had taken a chance on her nonetheless, and welcomed her to the Enterprise. She had just been promoted to Lieutenant before Picard assigned her to infiltrate the Maquis. He could have anticipated her desertion, but it still hurt. To Starfleet, the Maquis were outlaws, a blacklisted paramilitary group. Sympathetic, perhaps, in their attitude toward the Cardassians, but virtually terrorists. Picard thought that Ro would have done her duty to Starfleet. He thought she would have been grateful.  


“How do you know about that, Q?”  


The entity raised a brow at him.  


“Never mind.”  


“You can’t reason with extremists, Picard. Better convince the Cardassians to back off. They’re a horribly primitive species; they respond well to threats.”  


Picard snorted. “Anyone would, if the threat came from you.”  


Q’s eyes suddenly lit up.  


“Are you asking for my help, _mon capitaine_?”  


“No,” Picard said immediately.  


Q sighed, flopping back down onto the couch, and Picard began to regret not kicking the entity off his ship at the first sight of him. His mere presence grated on the captain. Maybe it was the way he oscillated between being an agent of destruction and a lifesaver, with Picard not knowing which to expect. _You’ve never volunteered to ‘help’ with the Cardassians before_ , he wanted to say. _Not even when they tortured me to within an inch of my life_.  


Q must have sensed the tension in the room, because his eyes flicked back to Picard, and he said, “I can come back later.”  


“Do that, please.”  


“Very well. Oh, and you might suggest to Gul Evek that he keep his missiles out of the demilitarized zone.”  


Picard flinched. He hadn’t heard of the Cardassians smuggling any unauthorized weaponry lately.  


“What?”  


A wink.  


“Good luck.”  


There was a flash of light as Q snapped his fingers, seeming to vanish from the room. But Picard knew better, this time, than to assume he would be gone for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Picard contemplates Q’s visit, and Gul Evek gets rekt.


	2. Act I, Scene Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Captain convenes a meeting of the senior staff.

The senior staff of the Enterprise sat uneasily in the observation lounge, waiting for their captain to arrive. Picard rarely called for meetings of the entire senior staff unless something was amiss, and affairs on the ship had been going smoothly of late. They cast sidelong glances at each other, exchanging polite words despite their confusion. 

“…Guinan’s been trying out a new drink at the bar. It’s called “the El-Aurian Enlightener.” Have you had it?” 

“No. Is it any good?” 

“Let’s just say you might need to check yourself into sickbay for the next few days…” 

“…So if we realign the warp coils, we might be able to reproduce the warp signature of a Romulan warbird.” 

“A fascinating idea, Geordi…” 

“...Alexander has expressed an interest in undergoing the First Rite of Ascension.” 

“Really? That’s – surprising–“ 

The doors slid open as Captain Picard strode into the room, and everyone went quiet as his gaze fell upon them. Commander William Riker, Dr. Beverly Crusher, Chief Engineer Geordi LaForge, Lieutenant Commander Data, Tactical Officer Worf, and Counselor Deanna Troi – everyone was accounted for. Picard gave a short nod, clearing his throat. He sat down in his chair at the head of the table. 

“Thank you for agreeing to meet on such short notice. The reason I have called you all here is that Q came to visit the Enterprise.” 

Suddenly, the room exploded with complaints and questions. 

“Is he still on board the ship?” 

“I’d better call Engineering and tell Lieutenant Barclay to keep an eye on our systems–“ 

“Are you hurt, Captain?” 

“I thought we were finally rid of him,” Riker groused. 

“Everyone–“ Picard raised his hands, soliciting silence, and gently lowered them as he got the staff’s attention. “Thank you. I believe Q has left the ship, and no, I’m not hurt. Very little happened, actually. He simply… ‘Stopped by to see me,’ in his own words.” 

Worf made a noise halfway between a snort and a growl. The ridges on his forehead became more pronounced than usual. 

“There was nothing he wanted?” The Klingon tactical officer demanded. 

Picard rested his chin on the back of his hand, looking thoughtful. 

“I’m not sure. But he had a rather unexpected piece of information to deliver about the Cardassians.” 

A few people leaned forward in their chairs. 

“He says that Gul Evek has brought missiles into the Demilitarized Zone.” 

“We’ve received no intelligence from Starfleet along those lines,” returned Commander Riker. 

“No, but given Gul Evek’s track record with smuggling illegal weaponry, it would not be surprising. I know that Q isn’t exactly a reliable source of information. But we are in a –“ Picard frowned. “A sensitive situation. The last border skirmish between the Cardassians and the Maquis took place just over a month ago, and it did not work out in anyone’s favor. We need to preserve peace along the Federation border, and if that means giving Gul Evek a scare…” 

Riker looked as if he were about to spontaneously combust. 

“Captain, how can you suggest–“ 

Picard stood up, splaying his hands across the table. “I am not suggesting anything, Number One. I am merely _asking_ , does anyone here think we should trust Q’s words?” 

No one answered. Worf was shaking his head vehemently, lips curled in contempt. 

After a long moment, Counselor Troi raised her hand. 

“Deanna!” 

Worf glared at her, slack-jawed, but she only shrugged. 

“He does have an… Investment in the Captain.” 

“An investment? What is this, a horse race?” Riker muttered, just low enough so nobody could hear. Then he spoke up: “We’re supposed to rendezvous with Gul Evek in 24 hours. As you said, Captain, we’re already on thin footing with the Cardassians after our last attempt to mediate between them and the Maquis. We can’t jeopardize the peace treaty between Cardassia and the Federation on the words of some amoral–“ 

“All right,” Picard cut in, but it was Commander Data’s words that made the room fall silent. 

“I agree with the Counselor.” 

Even Geordi, who usually took Data’s side at staff meetings, turned his head in surprise. 

“Why do you say that, Data?” 

The android pursed his lips. “In our dealings with Q, we have known him to be antagonistic and unhelpful. However, from what we have heard of his personal interactions with the Captain, it seems he is capable of playing a teaching role.” 

“A ‘teaching role?’” Asked Dr. Crusher. 

Data nodded. “He has advised, and even helped the Captain, in matters important to him.” 

“Important to the Captain or to Q?” Riker asked, more sarcastically than anything else. 

“To the Captain.” 

“Yes,” Counselor Troi added, giving an emphatic nod. She swiveled in her chair to face Picard. “That is what I mean. I would at least consider the possibility that Q is telling the truth. There are plenty of ways to… Broach the subject delicately with Gul Evek without flat-out accusing him of planting missiles in the Demilitarized Zone.” 

Picard smiled slightly at that. 

“You know that Gul Evek will look for any excuse to say that we’re blaming him in error.” 

Deanna did not so much as blink. “Even so,” she said calmly. 

“Very well. I will think on it. In the meantime, Counselor, I want you to prepare to accompany me onboard the Vetar.” He turned to Worf and Riker. “You as well, Lieutenant. Number One. Dismissed.” 

With that, the captain left the conference lounge, and the other senior officers slowly departed. Deanna and Worf were the last to leave the room. 

“You know something,” he said matter-of-factly, as the doors closed shut behind them. 

“…I might.” 

“Then you must inform the Captain,” Worf insisted. 

Deanna smiled, a flicker of uncertainty passing across her face. 

“It’s just a feeling, Worf,” she said, as she took his arm, and they walked down the corridor. “Best not to think _too_ much on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I misspoke, guys. _Next_ time, Picard  & co. meet with the Cardassians. ~~Get rekt, Gul Evek~~  
>  Thank you for reading! <3


	3. Act I, Scene Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A diplomatic away team, led by the Captain, meets with Gul Evek. Counselor Troi tries to figure out if Q was telling the truth.

They had barely been onboard the Vetar for a few minutes, but already Deanna could feel herself sweating. It wasn’t just the tense energy between the away team and its hosts, although the calm look on Captain Picard’s face didn’t fool her. The climate on Cardassian cruisers was hotter and more humid than on Federation starships, and the reception room so dimly lit that Deanna feared she would trip over a chair leg or some other unseen object. _Maybe Gul Evek’s respect for our time_ , she thought drily. They’d been waiting for at least ten minutes. 

Sighing, she glanced over at her fellow crewmen. Worf seemed to be bearing the heat fine, but Will had that impassive look on his face that only appeared when he was restraining himself from complaining. 

“Are you all right?” She whispered. 

“Oh, I’m _fine_ ,” said Riker, managing a strained smile. Deanna raised a brow, and he leaned in a little closer. “This reminds me of that time I served aboard a Klingon ship. It was dark and hot as hell.” 

Worf shot Riker a glare, at the same time that Captain Picard turned around to shush them. 

“Let’s wait quietly,” he urged. 

Just then, Gul Evek came into the room, flanked on either side by two glinns. Deanna remembered her duty; Captain Picard had asked her on this mission to determine whether Q’s assertion about the Cardassians was true. At their arrival, her telepathic ability stirred. She could sense strong emotions from them– but what, exactly? Deanna focused her attention on the three men, but it was difficult to gauge their thoughts. Gul Evek’s mind, in particular, was like a mask, and she wondered if he’d been trained to resist telepathic species. 

“Hello, Captain Picard.” 

“ _Kiba’avzayn_ , Gul Evek.” The Captain’s smile was painfully polite, worse than the one he reserved for the times when Deanna’s mother visited the Enterprise. 

“My aides, Glinn Telak and Glinn Varo.” 

Picard nodded, then gestured to Deanna and the others. 

“Commander Riker, Counselor Troi, and Lieutenant Worf. We thank you for your hospitality.” 

Evek, strangely enough, smiled. 

“There’s no need. This will hopefully be a short conversation.” 

Deanna made a mental note: Gul Evek wanted the meeting to be over as soon as possible. That was _something_ , at least. 

They sat. For a while, the conversation consisted only of careful yet probing banter. Evek’s glinns said little; they knew their place, according to Cardassian military custom. Deanna suspected their role was largely to intimidate, or perhaps corroborate Gul Evek’s account of the meeting, if needed. The Gul himself was a puzzle. Captain Picard had dealt with him before, but their last conversation about the Maquis had devolved into a shouting match. Evek seemed far quieter now. 

“Well…” Picard said, when he seemed satisfied that they’d exhausted all the pleasantries. 

“Well. The Maquis, Captain. We both know that’s why we’re here.” 

“Yes. Gul Evek, I’ve been wondering if you might try a… Different strategy, in dealing with these people. It’s clear that mutual aggression has not worked.” 

“They’re insurgents,” Evek said simply. “It doesn’t ‘work’ until they get what they want.” 

“I understand that, but the current tactic of attacking Maquis hotspots to draw them out into the field is –“ 

He raised a brow. “Destructive?” 

“Yes, to your own people. The recent skirmishes have killed many Cardassians, Gul Evek. Isn’t it a shame to let your people die, with no end to the conflict in sight?” 

“I would ask you to let my people decide what is and is not shameful for them.” 

Deanna feared the conversation was about to take a circuitous turn, but Captain Picard leaned forward in his chair and cut her thoughts short. 

“If I did that, then nothing would be shameful for the Cardassians.” 

He said it calmly enough, but the mood in the room changed entirely. Worf’s eyes boggled; Riker was struggling to pick his jaw up from the floor; the glinns were growling softly; and Picard was bristling with alertness. Gul Evek’s face: again, a mask. 

“What do you mean, Captain?” 

“You know perfectly well what I mean.” 

Actually, Deanna didn’t know if he did. She felt confusion from Gul Evek – the first emotion she’d sensed from him this entire time. Perhaps Q had been lying about the missiles, and Evek really was unsure as to what the Captain meant. 

Another possibility: Evek suspected that Picard referred to his torture at the hands of the Cardassians, and he didn’t know how to respond. 

A third possibility: he didn’t know which of the two options Picard was talking about. Deanna glanced to the Captain, and to her own surprise, she realized that _he_ didn’t know, either. 

But Picard composed himself, seeming to center his mind on the task, and said, “I am talking about the missiles you have planted inside the Demilitarized Zone.” 

_There._ The glinns turned to each other in fear, and Gul Evek was trapped between them. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“We have received information that there are interplanetary missiles that belong to Cardassia within the Zone.” 

“I know of no such thing.” 

“Don’t you? I suppose they’re only for defensive purposes, in case the Maquis launch an attack on your fleet.” 

Gul Evek made an affronted noise. 

“How _dare_ you, Picard–“ 

“I am here on a mission of peace,” said the captain, his voice raising perilously, “not one of underhandedness or warmongering. Would you have Cardassia feud not only with the Maquis, but also with the Federation? The purpose of the Demilitarized Zone is to maintain peace between our people. Lest we forget,” he said slowly, “What happened at Minos Korva.” 

Gul Evek’s haughty gaze condensed into anger. It was an insult, to accuse a Cardassian of having a poor memory. And there was no way Gul Evek didn’t know that Picard had been tortured for information about the Federation’s defense plans for Minos Korva. The Enterprise had discovered Cardassian ships in the area. Eventually, they were sent home – but not before the acting captain had ripped the local gul to shreds and demanded for Picard’s release. 

“Remind me,” Evek growled, “What happened?” 

“An embarrassment to the Cardassian government and its people.” 

Silence. 

“What I propose is that you remove those missiles from the Demilitarized Zone immediately, and give the Maquis a chance to cool down.” 

“And what if there are no missiles, Captain Picard?” 

“Then there will be no conflict between the Cardassian Union and the Federation.” 

Gul Evek’s eyes narrowed, and Deanna thought of a new phrase to describe what she was witnessing: burning in frustration. 

“Very well,” he said at last. “We will try this… Peace of yours, Captain. Though I must say, you fight like a Cardassian.” 

On the walk back to the Vetar’s transport pads, Deanna walked beside Picard. Worf and Riker were still too shocked and sweaty to make conversation. But she sensed the Captain’s need to talk, even though he wouldn’t admit it, and this was not the place. 

“He was right,” was all she said. 

Picard nodded. He didn’t have to speak a word for her to understand the look on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. I love subplots about the Cardassians. 
> 
> _Kiba'avzayn_ means "good tidings" in Cardāsda, the Cardassians' official language. 
> 
> Glinn Telak is Gul Evek's canonical aide. But often times guls have two, so I made up a second, Glinn Varo. 
> 
> The Acting Captain of the Enterprise during Picard's capture was, of course, the inimitable Captain Jellico. XD He was... a lot. But hey, he did a good job in the end. 
> 
> The Cardassian representative ~~who Jellico totally chewed out~~ was Gul Lemec. 
> 
> That's the end of Act One! Thank you so much for reading  <3 Next time, Picard and Q reunite.


	4. Act II, Scene One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life aboard the Enterprise resumes as usual, except that Q is back to continue his visit.

Jean-Luc Picard liked to think he was a prudent man. In matters of diplomacy, he was cautious; he always consulted his senior officers in advance; and he didn’t rush into important decisions, except when his temper got the better of him. Although the meeting aboard the Vetar had resolved itself well, Picard felt less certain about how he’d handled it than about any decision he’d made in a while. He had no doubt that Gul Evek would launch an investigation into the informant, combing through the Cardassian fleet for the source of Picard’s knowledge about the missiles. Given the culprit, the Gul would be searching for a _very_ long time. 

It would have brought a smile to the Captain’s face, if he didn’t know that Evek would find some innocent man to blame in the end. There weren’t many other options available if he wanted to save his own skin. Picard could give Gul Evek the identity of the source, but that would mean revealing Q’s existence to the Cardassians. Why would he, when the Federation finally had the advantage in mediating these border disputes? Evek wasn’t likely to believe Picard, anyway. And even if he did, it would be impossible to hold the entity accountable. No Cardassian sham trial could seal Q’s fate. 

_Isn’t that what bothers you?_ Picard thought to himself, as he walked down the corridor toward the turbolift. Any action he took as Captain of the Enterprise could affect his life and those of many others, but not Q’s. And Q could intervene in human affairs, with repercussions for everyone but him. The Continuum had punished Q before, but their standards of justice were foreign to Picard. Godlike beings smiting each other – that wasn’t the same as condemning mortal men. And Picard had no intention of going after Q himself. He didn’t understand why the entity had chosen to help him, but… He would accept what had happened. For now. 

“Captain on the Bridge,” announced Data, as Picard reentered his usual life aboard the Enterprise. 

“There’s no need, Data. I’ll be in my ready room for the next half-hour. Maintain a steady orbit around the planet; we aren’t leaving this sector just yet.” 

The android raised his brows, seemed to contemplate this, and nodded. 

“Captain _off_ the bridge,” he quipped. 

Picard went into his ready room, sat down at his desk, and contacted Admiral Nechayev. She responded almost immediately to his call, looking harried. 

“Captain, what is the situation?” 

He sighed and clasped his hands. If Picard felt tense, Nechayev looked it. He and his commanding officer didn’t have the best working relationship, but he had to feel sympathetic. Meetings with the Cardassians so often ended in frustration; she could only have been expecting the worst. 

Luckily, that wasn’t the case. 

“Admiral. I have negotiated a temporary ceasefire.” 

“Really?” 

“I can’t speak for the Maquis, but Gul Evek has agreed to put the hostilities on hold.” Picard had never seen the Admiral speechless, apart from the time he’d brought a tray of bularian canapés to their meeting on the status of the Cardassian Union. But this moment came close to eclipsing that one. 

“I expect a report on this, Captain… But tell me, how did you do it?” 

“We received intelligence that the Cardassians had missiles in the Demilitarized Zone. Gul Evek did not expect us to know. I told him we would not count the action as a treaty violation, provided that he remove them.” 

Suspicion flashed across Nechayev’s face. She hadn’t been privy to the information. Still, she bowed her head in that languorous way of hers, a tired assent. This situation had been fraying her nerves for months. First there was Ro Laren’s defection; then the Maquis kidnapped a prominent gul, Dukat, and a Federation team had to rescue him. Now this back-and-forth with Gul Evek, which at least for the moment, had been resolved. 

“Thank you.” 

Picard nodded crisply, and the communication ended. 

He barely had a moment to breathe before a seated figure materialized on the edge of his desk: a brown-haired man in a Starfleet uniform with four silver pips on his lapel, the insignia of a captain. 

“So, how did it go?” 

“Don’t you already know that?” asked Picard. 

The smug look on Q’s face betrayed his knowledge. 

“The Cardassian diplomatic style is rather odd, don’t you think? They wait for you to figure out what they want, and when you finally do, they start arguing with you.” 

Picard said nothing. He could think of another alien whose methods of communication made even less sense to him than the Cardassians’. 

“I suppose so,” he murmured. “Q, could you not sit on my desk?” 

“That Evek guy sure knows how to–“ 

“Q!” 

Sighing, the entity stood up from the desk. “Happy, Jean-Luc?” 

“Yes, thank you.” 

Picard glanced up at Q, who was now smiling down at him. 

“What is it?” 

“Are you free for our little chat?” 

_Right_ , he thought. He’d promised Q a conversation, whatever that meant to him. 

“I’m still deciding how to explain your involvement in my report to the Admiral.” 

The entity gave Picard a long look, as though the answer were obvious. 

“Simple. Just tell her I was in an altruistic mood and wanted to extend my services for the benefit of the Federation.” 

“Does the Continuum share these sentiments?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. They have nothing to do with it.” 

Picard leaned back in his chair, regarding him carefully. 

“An act of assistance like this one could be interpreted as a willingness on the part of the Continuum to ally itself with the Federation.” 

Picard’s guest snapped his fingers and was now sitting in an elaborately carved chair, facing the captain. His uniform now resembled a British diplomat’s outfit, a navy button-down jacket with gold oak leaf embroidery and a red sash. A tricorn hat edged with white ostrich plumes was perched atop his head. 

“At this point, the Continuum could care less what humanity does, so long as it doesn’t have to get involved. The Q could destroy this galaxy in an instant, Jean-Luc. They don’t care about making friends. But they’re also content to leave well enough alone.” 

“Cold comfort.” 

Q shrugged, and it was one of the more disconcerting gestures he’d seen from the entity. 

“Don’t worry, Jean-Luc. Your species is safe, as are its, uh… Friends.” 

“Then you’re acting independently. Why?” 

“I thought you could use the help.” 

“I see.” Picard cleared his throat, resting his hands on his desk and interlacing his fingers. “I appreciate that, Q.” 

The other blinked, then chuckled. 

“ _Mon capitaine_ , do you suspect me of something?” 

“Should I?” 

“No. But it is fun to keep you guessing.” Another snap of his fingers, and Q was back in his Federation uniform. He stretched his hand out across the table to Picard. “Shall we go for a walk?” 

The captain hesitated. But he took Q’s hand, and they vanished from the room in a flash of light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all. I am watching Deep Space Nine for the first time, and I love it. So you might see mentions of the characters, or even little cameos. Who knows? :P I didn't realize Picard was still captain of the Enterprise during DS9, so tell me if there's someone you want to see!
> 
> Next time: We find out where Q has transported Picard, and why. (Maybe. ;))


	5. Act II, Scene Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The captain and Q take a little trip. It turns out that the entity has an unusual proposal for Picard.
> 
> Happy New Year, y'all! <3

As they reached their destination, the first thing Picard did was close his eyes. Teleporting without a transporter was disorienting. It scrambled his molecules in unfamiliar ways. If the Q’s method of travel felt like flying in a dream, then every arrival was the moment when Picard woke up, just before he was about to fall. 

“We’re here… What are you doing?” Asked Q. 

Picard took a deep breath. Obviously the entity had no notion of motion sickness. 

“Centering myself.” 

“Just open your eyes,” Q said, a note of amusement in his voice. 

“Fine.” Picard looked around, and a sense of place immediately became apparent to him. Camellia shrubs and rose beds, horse-drawn carriages traveling down pathways lined with trees, sunlight dancing across a sculpture garden. In the distance, a vast palace, and all of it anchored in Earth’s familiar gravity. He’d been here before, though not in years – and not, he suspected, in _this_ year. 

“Good god. Are these the gardens of Versailles?” 

Q smiled proudly. “Yup. Era of Louis _le Quatorze_ , the Sun King.” 

Picard drooped like a flower. “Q, as… Thoughtful as this is, I’m really too tired to play at being a French nobleman.” 

“Who said you were?” Q snapped his fingers, and they’d exchanged their uniforms for working clothes. “We’re gardeners.” 

Picard eyed the shears in his right hand. He crouched down beside a rose bed and examined the flowers, then brushed his gloved fingers through the soil. The plants did look overgrown, and there was a lot of organic debris that he would need to get rid of after pruning the roses. He grinned up at Q, who looked ridiculous in his sun hat. Picard might as well enjoy an already absurd situation, right? 

“That’s all right, then,” he murmured. 

“Hmm?” 

“I can’t leave the King’s gardens untended, can I? Help me with these roses, Q.” 

The entity took a pair of loppers from the wheelbarrow beside them and knelt down next to Picard. 

“My pleasure, Jean-Luc.” 

They worked in silence for a while. Strange, to be around Q and not have to endure his constant talking. His presence felt companionate, even though Picard didn’t understand why Q had brought him here. The entity had an interest in Earth history, but he usually transported Picard to more eventful locations: battlefields, perilous forests, the dawn of creation. If Q had another “lesson” in mind for Picard, it wasn’t how to care for a rose bed. He was doing a rather awful job, actually. 

“No – you need to cut _around_ the live roses. Only get rid of the dead ones.” 

Q’s eyes widened in frustration. He held the loppers at an awkward angle and kept cutting, a growl escaping him when the red blossoms fell to the ground. 

“I can’t help it, Picard! They’re all… Bunched together!” 

“Have more patience.” Leaning over, he reached for the loppers and gently pried them out of Q’s hands. “Look, like this. When you’re cutting the stems, hold them in your other hand to see which bud they lead to.” 

“Show me again.” 

Picard did so. They fell into a routine; he demonstrated, and Q copied his actions. The whole scene carried an unnerving familiarity. He imagined tending to the vineyards at his family’s home in La Barre; there were all sorts of strange, surreal memories wrapped up in that place, now. 

The distant years of his childhood: singing “Sur Le Pont D’Avignon” to his parents; sitting on the back porch with his Aunt Adele and eating madeleines dipped in tea; competing with his brother Robert to see who could pick the most grapes, the same way they fought about everything else – 

Visiting Robert’s family, after years of keeping his distance. Throwing punches with his brother in the muddy vineyards. Sobbing as he poured his mechanical heart out about the Borg to a brother who, after years of ridicule and jealousy over Jean-Luc’s Starfleet ambitions, finally tried to understand him – 

The captain didn’t tend to reflect on his past, but he could hardly avoid it anymore. It returned to him in flashes, moments both joyful and sad. Sometimes it showed up in his nightmares about the Borg, like the indelible stain of some long-suppressed trauma. Those moments were the worst, when it seemed that his memories were no longer his own. 

Picard lifted his hand to the brim of his hat, as if to arrange it. His fingers brushed along the metal implant above his left ear, the last vestige of his time within the Borg Collective. Dr. Crusher had told him that he hadn’t been assimilated for long enough to depend on the implant, and she would probably be able to remove it within a few years. In the meantime, he had to live with it. The device had once enabled him to hear the thoughts of the Collective. Now, it only delivered scattered bits of information, clues to the Borg’s present whereabouts in the Delta Quadrant. There was no output from Picard, so the Collective had no way of knowing where he was. Still, Picard suspected he’d never fully be rid of the device – 

“What’s wrong?” 

It was Q, pulling him back to the present. Or the past, if this really was the 17th century. 

“Ah… This place just reminds me of something.” 

Q raised his chin, cheeks dappled with sunlight. 

“How vague of you.” 

“I have a better question,” Picard said, eyes narrowing. “How is it that a supposedly omnipotent being–“ 

“Not ‘supposedly.’” 

He frowned. “How do you, who have traveled the galaxy for millennia, not know how to prune a rose bush?” 

“The Q aren’t gardeners.” 

Fair point. Picard knew little about the Continuum, but he doubted that its members moonlighted as horticulturalists. 

“I wouldn’t have thought that this kind of activity would interest you.” 

“But it interests _you_ , right?” 

“It’s a hobby of mine. My family owns a vineyard, so I grew up with something of a green thumb.” 

Q sniffed, considering this. 

“I find it difficult to see the appeal of gardening, when you could just–“ He blinked, and all of a sudden, the roses were in full bloom. Picard could only sigh as Q gestured to them with a flourish. 

“There _is_ a learning curve, but that’s part of the appeal for humans. We learn something new every day. Gardening must seem tedious, for a being that has exhausted all there is to know.” 

That got a small smile from his companion, and Picard could tell they were getting somewhere. 

“ _Au contraire, mon capitaine_. Not even the Q know everything. For example, I didn’t know humans were capable of higher-order thinking until I met you. I also didn’t know they could be halfway decent at something.” 

Picard rolled his eyes. 

“Thank you for the backhanded compliment, Q.” 

“Yes, well, you tend to exceed expectations, Jean-Luc.” 

“Is this how all Q communicate, or just you?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he whispered. 

“I would,” Picard said. Surely Q understood the unspoken question, but he voiced it anyway: “What do you want?” 

There it was: the slow lean-in, the twinkle in his eyes that might have been the first glimmer of light from a newborn star. 

“An exchange. I will tell you whatever you want to know about the Q, and in return, you’ll let me travel with you on board the Enterprise.” 

Picard stilled, mouth drawn into a tight line. 

“Just as a guest,” Q amended hastily. “I won’t be around all day, alternate plane of existence and all. And I promise, I won’t interfere with your ship or its crew.” 

“How can I make sure you’ll keep your word?” 

Q’s hopeful smile wilted. 

“You can’t, I suppose. It’s just a request; you don’t have to agree. But haven’t I given you enough proof that you can trust me? My knowledge, for a little of your time.” 

He seemed earnest – more than that, he was serious, Picard realized. If so, learning more about Q’s species would help the Federation. And the captain had to admit that a xenological curiosity was getting the better of him. He knew precious little about this man, besides the fact that he wasn’t one. 

“If you inconvenience me, the senior staff, or anyone else on the ship at _all_ -"

“–Then I’ll leave. Relax,” Q assured him. The entity fiddled with the loppers again, taking to another rose bush with what almost looked like a practiced hand. “I’m good at self-improvement.” 

Picard groaned. If he survived this, he would almost certainly be demoted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: back to the Enterprise, and we get a chapter from Data's POV :) ~~Have I mentioned how much I love Data~~


	6. Act II, Scene Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Data has a hunch about Q. He discusses it with Geordi and Lieutenant Barclay.

Everything was functioning normally aboard the Enterprise, but something still felt amiss. 

Call it a hunch – although Lieutenant Commander Data was an android, so he did not have the same gut instinct as biological life-forms. But he supposed that an algorithmic conclusion from his neural net, combined with the input from his emotion chip, might be akin to a human “hunch.” 

Every morning, Data went to Engineering and performed his usual check-up of the Enterprise’s systems. Today was Stardate 48077.4. Life support was operating within normal parameters, as were tactical systems and transportation. One of Dr. Crusher’s biobeds had suffered a malfunction during Gamma Shift, but an engineering team was already in the process of repairing it. After double- and triple-checking the chief officers’ logs, Data had to concede that there wasn’t anything so wrong with the ship that he needed to worry. 

But maybe it had nothing to do with the Enterprise at all. Data pulled up the passenger log, carefully scanning it for clues. The time he’d spent reading Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s novels and acting them out on the holodeck had taught him to think like a detective. 

> Total number of sentient passengers aboard the USS _Enterprise_ -D: 1,025. 

> Number of crewmembers, including civilian residents and families: 1,014. 

> Number of diplomats: 9.  
> Specifics:  
> 2 Bolians.  
> 3 Ferengi. [Note: very irate; do not interact]  
> 1 Trill.  
> 2 Romulans.  
> 1 Vulcan.  


> Number of guests: 4.  
> Specifics:  
> Ch’Par, son of Tong [guest of LCdr. Worf.]  
> Mr. Hiro Ishigawa and Mrs. Kana Ishigawa [guests of Mrs. Keiko Ishigawa-O’Brien].  
> Q [guest of Capt. Jean-Luc Picard].

Oh. Well, this was no great matter of induction. Clearly, by his presence, Q was emitting some imperceptible energy that only Data could detect. He’d long wondered about the energy costs involved in Q’s taking humanoid form, and he was surprised they were so negligible. 

A better question: Why was Q here? 

Data had also given thought to the entity’s reappearance, and he’d come down to two possibilities: One, that Q needed assistance only the Enterprise could provide; two, that his visit was of a personal nature. The first possibility was hard to fathom, because the Continuum was the only real threat to Q, and he’d assured Captain Picard of no danger “on that front,” as humans sometimes said. Which left Data with a perplexing conclusion: that Q was onboard simply because he wanted to be. And given his closeness to the captain, Q could only be here for him. 

> Assessment of the situation: ? [Note: Troubling; conflicting information] 

Q was unquestionably dangerous, but Data had no personal reason to dislike him. When the Continuum had stripped Q of his powers, he’d relied upon the android to better understand humanity. The entity had never belittled him, and Data had learned more from teaching Q than he sometimes did by his own observation – including the fact that there were sentient beings even further removed from humans than he. As a gift, Q had given Data his first genuine feeling: a moment of laughter. Until Data began to efficiently process the input from his emotion chip, he had not known a more meaningful moment. So he did not know how to evaluate this new turn of events. From a more human perspective, he was not sure how he felt. 

Just then, Geordi La Forge strode into Engineering. Data swiveled around in his chair to greet him. 

“Hey, Data.” 

“Good morning, Geordi.” 

“How’s the ship? Everything a-ok?” 

An idea suddenly occurred to Data. Perhaps he should test his “hunch” about Q with Geordi. After all, his friend was a good judge of character, and he’d often given Data advice on how to act more human. 

“Geordi,” he began, “What is the purpose of visiting someone without motive?”

La Forge let out a long-suffering sigh. 

“Oh, boy. I guess I just answered my own question.” 

“If you are referring to the Enterprise, all systems are functioning normally–” 

“Thank god.” 

Data raised his eyes, as if urging Geordi to continue. 

“Let’s see… Well, you don’t always need a reason to visit someone, Data. Maybe you just like spending time with them.” 

“In what capacity?” 

Geordi chuckled and leaned against the main engineering console. 

“Any. You and I have visited each other before without making plans.” 

“So it is an overture of friendship.” 

“It can be,” agreed Geordi. “Or a romantic one. Maybe you just want to figure someone out. Why do you ask, anyway? Did someone drop by your quarters unannounced?” 

Data shook his head. 

“No, I was thinking about the Captain and Q.” 

Geordi furrowed his brow, and Data could tell that his gaze had narrowed behind his visor. 

“…You _sure_ nothing’s wrong with the ship? No unusual readings?” 

“None. It is our guest that I am uncertain about.” 

“Who isn’t?” Geordi asked, snorting. “I don’t think that’s a good example of visiting someone for no reason, Data. Q probably has some some trick up his sleeve. If you ask me, the Captain should be really careful.” 

Data could not disagree. Nonetheless, he was certain in his conclusion, and he told Geordi so. 

“I do not believe that Q’s presence is guided by a dangerous motive.” 

“So what, you think he just likes hanging out with Captain Picard?” 

He blinked, glancing off to his left before nodding. 

“Yes.” 

“Ugh. As long as it doesn’t involve wreaking havoc with the warp drive. I haven’t forgotten that first encounter with the Borg,” Geordi grumbled. “It completely fried our engines.” 

“Something fried our engines?” 

It was Lieutenant Barclay, reporting for alpha shift duty. 

“No, Reg. I was just talking about the Borg.” 

“Oh.” Barclay smiled nervously. “Good morning, then.” 

“Good morning,” Geordi and Data said, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. 

“Lieutenant,” Data began – and that was Geordi’s cue to duck his head down and get to work, because he’d had enough of the conversation – “What do you do when you want to spend time with someone?” 

“Me?” Barclay asked, pointing to himself. He had a shy but creative nature, and he wasn’t usually asked about such things. Data guessed his behavior was closer to Q’s than Geordi’s straightforwardness. “Create a holosuite program to impress them, I suppose.” 

“So you construct a virtual world.” 

Barclay laughed. “Most people don’t like the holosuite as much as I do. But I still enjoy making the programs and filling them with riddles and challenges. When someone else comes along, they’re entertained. It’s like playing a game together.” 

Data nodded. He understood the point of Lieutenant Barclay’s method, and he could think of someone else that would use it. The puzzle pieces of his mysterious hunch were slowly coming together. As Sherlock Holmes said, “Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” 

> Assessment of the situation: Personal visit  
> Possible motive: Curiosity, friendship, romantic interest [Note: explore further]  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Data.  
> Thank you for reading! Next time, the Captain learns more about his interdimensional guest. ~~Get ready for Continuum lore ayyyyy~~


	7. Act III, Scene One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picard and Q chat in Ten-Forward, and Guinan is understandably confused.

Jean-Luc Picard was not used to feeling anxious onboard his own ship. He was the captain of the Enterprise, a trained officer. During his seven years in command, he’d handled plenty of difficult situations. But knowing that Q was around colored his perception in an uneasy tint. Counselor Troi had stared at him on the bridge, as though she knew something he didn’t. Worf seemed tenser than usual. Data had taken to using his emotion chip during their conversations. There was something strange going on, wasn’t there? 

During gamma shift, Picard went to take a break in Ten-Forward. The lounge was mostly empty. Guinan made him a cup of Earl Grey and offered to talk, but he didn’t know what to say. Part of Jean-Luc suspected he’d invented this problem, looking for an excuse to explain away his unease. In the 48 hours since he and Q had returned to the ship, nothing had happened to the Enterprise or her crew. Picard hadn’t even seen Q; he half-believed the entity might have left. 

“Q,” he said, deciding to test that hypothesis. 

A flash of light. Q appeared at Picard’s table, sitting across from him. 

“You rang?” 

_That answers that_ , Picard thought. 

“I wondered if you were still in the vicinity.” 

Q adjusted the collar of his Starfleet uniform before flashing a smile. 

“Actually, I was orbiting a neutron star out in the Delta Quadrant, but at the sound of your voice, I just knew I had to come back.” 

Picard looked unconvinced. Q could probably tell, because he leaned back in his chair with something like concern on his face. 

“Trouble in paradise? Need me to… Stir things up a bit?” 

“Definitely not,” Picard said sharply. 

“You don't usually get nervous. Captain Picard, the king of his floating castle. What’s on your mind?” 

He laughed at that, but it came out more derisive than he’d intended. 

“You could read my mind any time you wanted.” 

“True,” Q mused, tilting his head back and forth. “You’ll be surprised to learn, then, that I’ve never done it.” 

Picard squinted at him. 

“Never? What about the time I was dying, and you… Made me relive my past, as an ensign on Starbase Earhart?” 

What Q had done was hard to explain without assuming that he’d probed Picard’s thoughts. The entity had created an illusion, one that couldn’t have existed if Q didn’t know things about Picard’s life that the captain had never told him. 

“You’re operating under a few mistaken assumptions, Jean-Luc. I didn’t make you do anything. All I did was appear in your dream while you were in sickbay.” 

Jean-Luc sighed, warming his hands on the teacup. “Most of my dreams aren’t that realistic.” 

Q leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. He was smiling again, as though pleased with himself. 

“I am an entity of many possibilities.” 

“I don’t doubt it. Now, what did you do?” 

“You want the boring scientific version?” Q wrinkled his nose. “I tweaked your brain wave activity to increase your capacity for lucid dreaming. Higher beta-1 frequency band emissions mean greater activity in the human parietal lobe. I didn’t read your mind.” 

Picard looked fascinated. He was quiet for a moment, before realizing that Q wasn’t about to continue. 

“Go on,” he murmured. 

The entity blinked in surprise. 

“You said you would tell me whatever I wanted to know about your species.” 

“But you want to hear about _this_? Altering neural activity is child’s play, Picard.” 

“To you, perhaps, but the brain remains the greatest mystery of all for humans.” 

“How little you know,” Q said with a shrug. “Very well.” 

Suddenly, there was a blank sheet of paper on the table. Q snapped his fingers, and a diagram of the human brain appeared on the page, along with equations that Picard hadn’t seen since his statistics classes at the Academy. He rested his elbows on the table and hazarded a smile. 

“So, the parietal lobe.” 

-

About an hour later, the captain and Q were still sitting hunched over the table. It was now covered in drawings of the human neural system, pages of Bayesian algorithms, and diagrams of a strange trilateral structure that Q claimed was the simplest possible depiction of his brain. Picard was glaring at him with a mix of frustration and incredulity. 

“What do you mean, the Q don’t sleep?” 

The entity huffed and crossed his arms. 

“It is a primitive way of restoring energy.” 

“Q, every species that has been discovered in this galaxy sleeps. It’s hard to believe that yours is the only one that doesn’t.” 

“Well, we’re never fully unconscious. We turn off certain brain functions, or move them into dimensions that are less cognitively taxing.” 

“So you do sleep.” 

“In bits and pieces,” Q conceded. 

“That’s not unprecedented. Whale species on Earth only sleep one hemisphere at a time.” 

“Did you just compare me to a barely sentient ball of blubber?” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” a voice deadpanned. Guinan had just approached the table with another cup of tea. Upon recognizing Q, she’d stopped still and put a hand on her hip. “Careful, Captain. You’ll deflate his ego.” 

“You!” The entity leaned away from her, horrified. “Picard, if you want to know someone who reads minds, then look no further than this creature.” 

Guinan shook her head, staring him down. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked. 

“Passage aboard the Enterprise,” he sneered. “I live here now.” 

“ _Temporary_ passage,” Picard warned him. 

Q seemed to acknowledge that, and adjusted his tone to be less flippant. 

“What are, uh… You doing here?” 

“I work here,” she said, setting the teacup down in front of the Captain. He uttered a brief _thank you_ , but Guinan’s attention was still fixed on Q. “Did you forget?” 

“No, I was trying to be polite.” 

Guinan nodded slowly, lips parted around a silent _ah_. 

“Politeness doesn’t work for you,” she said. 

Picard had been trying to ignore the conversation, sipping his tea, until he realized that both Guinan and Q were watching him. He frowned and carefully lowered the cup, but said nothing. 

Guinan was the first to break the silence. 

“Captain, what is this?” She asked, waving a hand in Q’s direction. 

“ _This_ is you interrupting our conversation–“ 

Picard stood up suddenly from the table. 

“I came here to relax,” he said slowly, hoping they understood the implication. “Q, be nice. Guinan, Q is here because we have made an agreement. He is teaching me about his species; in exchange, he travels freely onboard the ship.” 

“That doesn’t seem prudent,” admitted Guinan. Her lips were drawn in a tight frown as she studied the Captain’s face. 

“I have let him know that if he bothers my crew, he’ll have to leave.” 

Guinan smirked, rolling her head in Q’s direction. 

“You hear that? You’ve already bothered me, so you’re out.” She jerked a thumb at the door. 

“ _What_?” 

Guinan smiled disdainfully. 

“I should be asking you that. What do you get out of all this?” 

“Nothing you could understand,” he hissed. 

Stepping forward, Guinan leaned down until she stood at eye-level with Q. Like other El-Aurians, she was an empath. The members of her species called themselves “listeners,” and they could tell what others felt without even hearing them speak. At first, Q recoiled, but she only took the opportunity to press closer to his face. 

“Oh, I see,” she whispered. “Good luck with that.” 

Q’s face turned the same shade of red as his Starfleet uniform, and he raised his hand in warning. 

“Don’t you dare.” 

She drew herself upright, looking serene once more. Picard wasn’t sure what had happened; he hadn’t understood their muttering. Still, their enmity wasn’t his concern. 

“I only came by to give the Captain his drink.” 

“Yes, thank you, Guinan.” 

She patted his shoulder. 

“Just tell me if he causes trouble.” 

Picard smiled and sat back down at the table, but Q looked affronted as she walked away. 

“Barkeep!” He snapped his fingers. “What about my–“ 

Guinan swiveled sharply on her heel. 

“Uh-uh. You get your own drinks around here, Q,” she said, before heading back to the bar. 

That moment was what finally lessened Jean-Luc’s nerves. Guinan had a knack for detecting danger, but also for putting people at ease. If she felt calm enough to let Q sit in her bar, then Picard wouldn't worry. In fact, he felt relaxed enough to laugh. 

“You can’t possibly have thought she would serve you." 

Q made a noncommittal sound, then snapped his fingers. A warm mug of coffee appeared before him. 

“It was worth a try," he said quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that Q is afraid of Guinan because she's one of the few people who can tell he has ~feelings~
> 
> Next time: Picard learns more about the Continuum.
> 
> (I'm so excited. Did you know the Q have a written language? Did you know I totally made it up? Ayyy xD))


	8. Act III, Scene Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picard receives a startling message from Starfleet Command. Q and the captain learn more about each others' cultures. Later, Picard makes an important request.

_Captain’s log, Stardate 48086.2. I have received a priority one message from Starfleet Command about a potential threat to the Federation. Intelligence from the Gamma Quadrant suggests that a military state, the Dominion, is planning to invade the Alpha Quadrant. The Romulans, Klingons, and Cardassians have been informed of these developments. Meanwhile, all Galaxy-class starship captains are instructed to report knowledge of Dominion activity to Starfleet Command._

The Captain leaned back in his chair, open-mouthed, but found himself at a loss for words. 

“Well, damn,” he said eventually, though no one was in the office to hear him. 

When Picard first opened the communiqué, he wasn’t expecting this. He’d received priority one messages before, but few as dire. An invasion? Five years had passed since the Borg tried to invade Earth. Now a strange, new danger had appeared, and Picard did not doubt the Enterprise would be called to serve if war broke out. 

He replayed the message, a video from Admiral William Ross. Some things were left deliberately vague. What intelligence from the Gamma Quadrant? Starfleet had only begun to travel there, ever since a wormhole had opened close to Deep Space Nine, a starbase in Bajoran territory. To the Federation’s knowledge, it was the only stable wormhole in the galaxy– 

_Benjamin Sisko_ , Picard realized. _The starbase commander._ He must have encountered the Dominion while exploring the Gamma Quadrant. But if he could travel through the wormhole freely, then so could the Dominion. Unless Sisko could control the wormhole, they had a direct route to the Alpha Quadrant. 

Picard considered calling the commander. He’d heard that Sisko had a special relationship with the aliens living inside the wormhole, the Prophets of Bajor. It was not unlike his own relationship with Q, although there was a spiritual dimension to Sisko’s involvement with the Prophets. On Bajor, they were revered as gods, and Sisko as their Emissary. Perhaps he could convince them to prevent the Dominion from passing through the wormhole. 

But as it occurred to him, Picard had second thoughts. He wouldn’t want Q to interfere in the Federation’s affairs, so why these aliens? If they only cared about Bajor, they might do what they thought was best for the planet, but not the Alpha Quadrant as a whole. Starfleet could deal with the Dominion alone, as it had with the Borg – 

_No thanks to you._

Picard stilled. He almost expected Q to appear, but Jean-Luc could recognize the voice of his own conscience. He reached up to touch the Borg implant that curved around his left ear. All he heard was static, a dull background noise. He sighed and left his ready room, walking out onto the bridge. 

“Helm, take us out of orbit. Set course for Federation space, warp factor four.” 

Commander Riker greeted him with a smile. Picard would have to brief the Senior Staff about the Dominion, but that could wait until after they left the Demilitarized Zone. 

“You think the situation with the Cardassians is resolved, Sir?” asked Riker. 

Jean-Luc frowned, not knowing if he could count any situation with the Cardassians as “resolved.” 

“For now, Number One. The Maquis might accept a temporary ceasefire; they might not. In any case, we must leave Gul Evek to… Get rid of his devices. Those missiles were our immediate concern.” 

Riker nodded. “As much as we may sympathize with the Maquis, we can’t directly protect them.” 

“It’s not the Maquis we sympathize with,” the Captain corrected. “It’s the civilians in the Demilitarized Zone.” 

“Some of whom are members of the Maquis,” Riker pointed out. 

_And friends_ , his mind added, thinking of Ro. 

“That is not the mentality we should have. Formally, the Maquis are traitors to Starfleet. Their actions, just as much as Evek’s, threaten the fragile peace between the Federation and Cardassia.” 

“I understand; I was just–“ 

Counselor Troi laid a hand on Riker’s arm, quieting him down. 

“The captain is right.” 

_It’s not worth discussing_ , said the look in her eyes. To Picard, she gave a questioning glance. 

He shrugged his shoulders, as if to say, I’m not responsible for Starfleet policy. Nor was he responsible for Ensign Ro’s desertion, but that was a different matter. 

Meanwhile, a genial smile had returned to Riker’s face. 

“Our next orders, Sir?” 

“We’re picking up the Bolian ambassador to New Delhi and bringing him home. Please inform the Senior Staff that we have a meeting at 1200 hours, top priority.” 

“About the Bolian ambassador?” 

“No. We’ll discuss later.” 

Riker looked concerned, but he agreed. Picard sat down in the captain’s chair, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead. 

***

After Beta shift, the Captain was exhausted. What he wanted was to take a nap – but Q in his quarters, sitting on his sofa and reading _Nineteen Eighty-Four_ by George Orwell. 

_There’s no rest for the wicked_ , Jean-Luc thought wryly. He wasn’t sure how to feel about Q going through his bookshelf, but at least he’d chosen something edifying. 

“Are you enjoying the book?” 

Q sat up, peering over at him as though he’d been caught off guard. 

“Yes, actually. I prefer this to the works of your so-called Bard. It’s less… Sentimental.” 

Picard chuckled. “It does strike a different tone than _Romeo and Juliet_.” 

“More relevant, too.” 

“Interesting.” He sat down beside Q, who was thumbing the pages idly. “You think it’s more relevant to know about totalitarian states than love?” 

The entity hesitated before giving Picard a weary look. 

“Anything is more relevant than the petty squabbling of two families living in your 14th-century Earth.” 

Jean-Luc would grant him that. He’d never felt particularly inspired by _Romeo and Juliet_. 

“You might prefer Shakespeare’s historical plays.” 

In response, Q held up the copy of _Nineteen Eighty-Four_. 

“I’ll stick with this for now,” he said, waving it around. 

“As you like.” 

It struck Picard that this was the first time Q had shown true interest in human culture. Jean-Luc couldn’t complain about that, even if Q’s reading habit involved pillaging his bookshelf. Until now, he’d assumed that the entity gathered all his knowledge through Q-means: via the Continuum, or time travel, or the mind reading that he apparently did not do. In fact, Q read books, like anyone else. Picard was surprised, but pleased. 

“Do the Q have a written language?” He asked. 

The entity frowned and placed the book on Picard’s coffee table. 

“Of course. Do you think we’re imbeciles?” 

Picard, wisely, did not answer that question. 

“I simply meant that you might have no use for one, at this point.” 

“It is more for fun,” Q admitted. “Our written language evolved independently of our spoken one. We communicate using telepathy, but our written language uses signs to represent concepts and relationships, not the exact words we say.” 

A semasiographic language. The archaeologist in Picard felt unduly excited. No Earth culture had developed a language of signs that were completely unrelated to spoken words. 

“May I see?” He asked. 

“It is complex,” Q returned, not without a hint of pride. But he snapped his fingers, seeming to anticipate Picard’s response, and a pen and sheet of paper appeared in his hands the moment Jean-Luc said, “Show me.” 

“What do you want me to write?” 

“How do you write ‘Q?’” 

He snorted. “That’s simple,” he said, and drew the symbol with a single movement. 

[ ](http://s61.photobucket.com/user/Tolstoyevsky/media/Q_zpsuauluogx.png.html)

“A circle,” Picard murmured. 

“Yes. To designate that we are infinite and never-ending.” 

He gave a curious sound. It seemed unusual that the Q would have been an immortal species from the beginning. Then again, there was much that humans did not know about other life in the galaxy. 

“And this has always been the symbol for ‘Q?’” 

“Naturally, we have always had a very high opinion of ourselves.” 

“This is not too different from how we represent the letter Q,” Picard mused. 

Q frowned. 

“Yes, I know,” he grumbled. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Q drew a circle with a line intersecting it partway. 

[ ](http://s61.photobucket.com/user/Tolstoyevsky/media/Lower%20life%20form_zps56kuqgfj.png.html)

“This… Is the symbol we use to indicate lower life-forms.” 

Picard stared at him a moment, then started to laugh. The entity snapped his head toward the captain in protest. 

“It’s not funny, Picard!” 

“I-I beg to differ – it’s extremely funny–” 

Q crossed his arms petulantly and waited for him to finish. 

“Are you quite done?” He asked, when Picard stopped crying from laughter. 

“S-Sorry,” he murmured, brushing tears out of his eyes. He wasn’t sorry at all, but from the look on Q’s face, he just wanted Picard to drop the subject. “So the line indicates that the being is not a Q?” 

“It’s used to designate mortals. Just because a being isn’t a Q doesn’t mean it’s a lower life-form. We have different symbols for other immortal entities.” 

“Other–?” 

“Like the Bajoran, um… What do they call themselves? The Prophets.” 

“Oh, I see.” Humanity had only just discovered the existence of the Prophets; the Continuum could have known about them for eons. “So they are on equal standing with the Q?” He wondered if the Continuum took the Prophets’ well-being into account, or if they made moral decisions together like some sort of omnipotent judiciary. Picard tried to imagine a court of immortal beings, Q entities and Prophets and god-knows-what. The thought was terrifying. 

“It’s not a matter of standing. They aren’t considered lower life-forms because they have similar abilities and lifespans to us.” 

“Their species has reached an equivalent stage in their evolution?” 

“Bingo! Think about it this way. Vulcans have moral standing among humans, but so do chimpanzees, right?” 

“Yes,” Picard said. 

“By that token, humans have standing among the Q. The Continuum takes your moral worth into consideration by leaving you alone.” 

_And yet here you are_ , Jean-Luc thought. He made a face at Q’s analogy, not liking the implication. 

“So I am to you… As a chimpanzee is to _me_.” 

“Oh, don’t look so angry,” Q chided. “You compared me to a whale earlier.” 

“That was–“ An apt comparison based upon parallel evolution? “– No, I can’t refute my own logic. You’re right.” 

Q nudged him, grinning like an idiot. 

“I’m right, am I?” 

“Let’s continue,” Picard insisted loudly. “How would you write “human?”” 

Q gave an equally loud counter-sigh and wrote something down, but Picard couldn’t understand the symbols involved. 

[ ](http://s61.photobucket.com/user/Tolstoyevsky/media/Human_zpsyckprmll.png.html)

“You’ll have to break down what this means.” 

Q began to diagram the word, before writing an explanation below it. 

[ ](http://s61.photobucket.com/user/Tolstoyevsky/media/Human%20copy_zpsenhirdyi.png.html)

_A) A lower life form/ mortal, B) from the same galaxy, C) has formed civilization [planetary], D) has made first contact [interplanetary], E) has formed community [interplanetary], F) where they are leaders, G) logical and H) emotional, I) imaginative, curious, open_

“Q,” he murmured, “This is surprisingly flattering.” 

“Yes, well, there are less polite ways to write your species’ name; this has become the most common way.” 

“I assume you played some role in that.” 

Q preened. 

“And the Continuum hates me for it,” he said cheerfully. 

“I don’t understand how your language distinguishes between humanoid species, though. What is the difference between how you write “human,” and, say, “Vulcan?”” 

““Vulcan” is similar. Most of the notation is the same. Leaders in an interplanetary community of lower life-forms. This last part is different; it’s specific to the species. They only have the upper triangle, the one labeled as G on the “human” diagram, because they primarily value logic. The vertical line means a strong emphasis on tradition, but they also have the v-shape, labeled as I, because they are curious and open. That’s enough for the Q to know what species this is referring to.” 

[ ](http://s61.photobucket.com/user/Tolstoyevsky/media/Vulcan_zpsdnc5iuip.png.html)

“So your language focuses on relationships. First, to the Q: whether the species is in the same galaxy. Then, within the species: that they have a civilization. And lastly, to other developed species: that they have made first contact, have formed some kind of community. And then, after all that, you write characteristics specific to the species.” 

“Exactly.” Q winked. “I knew you were smart.” 

“This is fascinating,” Picard murmured. “There’s no written language like this on Earth.” 

“It wouldn’t be practical for humans. We understand this best, but we think differently from you.” 

“What I don’t understand is where you write the qualities of an individual. What if you’re talking about a certain person? Do you keep adding relationship symbols until the word is specific enough?” 

“Yes. But if you want to wax poetically about someone’s good qualities, that’s possible, too.” 

Q wrote the word for “human” again, with a small addition. 

[ ](http://s61.photobucket.com/user/Tolstoyevsky/media/Picard_zpsidbsxz5c.png.html)

“For example, this is you. In typical notation.” 

Picard blinked. “Me, personally?” 

“Well, it says “human who is chief contact point with the Q,” and only one person fits that description. But you can add other things.” 

He began to write above the symbol for “mortal.” 

[ ](http://s61.photobucket.com/user/Tolstoyevsky/media/Picard%202_zpsqy9dxhg4.png.html)

“You can specify that this person has the qualities of a leader and values logic. So it doesn’t say “Jean-Luc Picard,”” but it’s you.” 

The captain clasped his hands together in surprise. There was something very open in his expression, not his usual wary look or unimpressed frown. He didn’t think the Continuum would have a word for him in their language; at least, not a polite one. The fact that Q had created one was touching, somehow. 

“Thank you.” 

“Whatever for?” 

“Your compassionate diplomacy.” 

“Don’t be silly,” he said, waving the comment away. 

“Then thank you for treating me like a person.” 

Q shuddered, like a shock had traveled from his feet to the brown curls on his head. Jean-Luc saw, or rather felt, the change in his eyes. 

“You make it easy,” he said. 

_Easy for Q, maybe_. That wasn’t the word Picard would have chosen, but he accepted it. Q was beginning to reveal facets of his culture that Picard had not known existed. He had not expected the entity to be forthcoming, yet here they were, discussing languages as Jean-Luc might have done with Deanna or another friend. 

“Do you call each other “Q” when you talk to each other?” 

“Our spoken language exists in a frequency the human ear cannot detect. There are subtle differences in name pronunciations, but lowered in pitch, it would all sound to you like “Q.” If you want to give me a nickname, though, I also answer to “darling.”” 

“I should give you an awful nickname, to serve you right.” 

“You can call me whatever you want, Jean-Luc.” 

It was Q’s usual banter, but he still wasn’t used to the entity calling him by his first name. It sounded unfamiliar, or maybe too familiar. He and the entity were past formalities, but did that mean they were friends? 

“Q is easy. I’ll stick with that.” 

“Are you sure? I’ve picked up some colorful names over the years, especially in the Gamma Quadrant. The Errikangs once dubbed me “the Demon Robber of the Holy Shrine–”” 

“What were you doing in the Gamma Quadrant?” Picard interrupted. He was still thinking about the message from Starfleet Command – and its warning. 

“I go there often. Actually, I visited the Errikang system with your friend Vash, before she ditched me. Have you heard from her lately?” 

Jean-Luc took a deep breath. 

“She sent me a message last year, to warn me about the risks of traveling with you. She said you almost got her assassinated six times.” 

Q gaped at him. 

“It was only _five_ times–“ 

“Have you been to the Gamma Quadrant recently?” 

“Last week, in your time. I was having a chat with some unpleasant people.” 

“Should I be concerned?” 

“Yes, but not because of me. If you want to know–“ 

Picard shot out a hand. 

“No, thank you,” he said. 

“So you don’t want to hear about my trip?” 

“I’ll let Starfleet explore the Gamma Quadrant on its own, thank you.” 

“Better watch out before the Gamma Quadrant explores this one,” Q mumbled. 

“Is this about the Dominion?” 

“You’ve heard of them!” 

“Q, what did you say to them?” Picard demanded. He didn’t want the danger of an invasion to be compounded by Q’s involvement. The Alpha Quadrant lived in a delicate balance, and Q was the free radical that could set off a chain reaction, for better or worse. 

“Nothing! I was having a chat with the _Prophets_. They’re very annoying, speaking only in riddles. Nothing is clear with them. I tried to get them to tell me more about the Dominion, but they thought I would do damage to the possible futures they’ve calculated.” 

“And they’re probably right. Q, you can’t interfere with every possible enemy the Federation has. I understand that you want to help, but Starfleet is already aware of the Dominion threat and is taking the appropriate precautions.” 

Q rolled his eyes. 

“I could get rid of the problem by snapping my fingers.” 

“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t! Look, for humanoids, this is about agency. We need to solve our problems ourselves, within our capabilities. If you respect me… Then promise me that you won’t intervene in what Starfleet is doing. Please.” 

It was an unusual request, asking a being with Q’s powers not to help. Maybe Starfleet would beg for his assistance, if they knew they could have it. But getting the entity involved would put the Captain in a difficult position. Picard had a duty to the Federation; Q didn’t. If it came to war, they would be gambling with people’s lives. That was what Jean-Luc feared most, that making another wrong move would destroy everything he knew. 

Q shifted toward him, gaze downcast. There was something in his expression, like the subtle smile of the Mona Lisa, that told Jean-Luc he didn’t know the whole story yet. 

“Fine. You have my word.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration for the Q language comes from the fictional language Heptapod B. Check it out in the movie _Arrival_ , or read the original work, "Story of Your Life" by Ted Chiang. <3
> 
> I wasn't a fan of Q's appearance in _DS9_ ; it felt kind of pointless, and he seemed out of character. But it got a mention anyway, when I realized the story timeline overlaps with _DS9_ and the discovery of the wormhole to the Gamma Quadrant. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	9. Act III, Scene Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I found out that Patrick Stewart will be starring as Picard in an all-new Star Trek series! I am living. This series could be 13 episodes of Picard sitting in a field of sunflowers, and that would be fine with me. (Although if we don't get John de Lancie for at least an episode, I will riot. XD)
> 
> This chapter marks the middle of the story! :) There's some discussion of Picard's assimilation in "Best of Both Worlds" and his torture in "Chain of Command," but nothing graphic.

_To die, to sleep._

A familiar hallway, dark and quiet. Green plasma lights, gray walls. Everywhere you look, the same technology: distribution nodes, regeneration alcoves extending down the corridor. Every cross-section of the starship is identical, unfolding from the center like a bismuth crystal. Your every step is a mirror image of itself. All around you, a faint whirring- 

_To sleep, perchance to dream–_

You are somewhere else, inside a different memory. A large room, darker even than the hallway. You recognize this place, too. Blue LEDs, metal devices, a desk and two chairs. Orange heat lamps radiate a comforting light that does not reach you. Numbness spills through your veins; they’ve injected you with drugs. From behind the desk, a figure rises and walks toward you – 

_Aye, there’s the rub._

The whirring continues, and you realize it has become a steady stream of voices. 

[[Captain Jean-Luc Picard, you lead the strongest ship of the Federation fleet >> You speak for your people.]] 

“I have nothing to say to you, and I will resist you with my last ounce of strength.” 

[[Strength is irrelevant >> Resistance is futile. We wish to improve ourselves >> We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own >> Your culture will adapt to service ours.]] 

“Impossible!” You say, and you believe it. “My culture is based on freedom and self-determination.” 

[[Freedom is irrelevant; self-determination is irrelevant >> You must comply.]] 

“We would rather die–” 

[[Death is irrelevant. Your archaic cultures are authority-driven >> To facilitate our introduction into your societies, it has been decided that a human voice will speak for us in all communications >> You have been chosen to be that voice.]] 

_For in this sleep of death, what dreams may come_

The man before you is tall and brutally handsome, with a square jaw and broad shoulders. His dark hair is slicked back, and ridges line his face. His blue eyes look dull, even under the lamplight, but they never leave your face. He’s dressed in the uniform of a Cardassian Gul. You have seen men like this before, but mostly in history books. Thugs, gangsters, torturers. 

“I demand to see a neutral representative as required by the Federation-Cardassian Peace Treaty.” 

You spend the next minutes trying to persuade him, but he does not yield. 

“Captain, we have gone to great lengths to lure you here because we know that in the event of an invasion, the Enterprise will be the command ship for the sector encompassing Minos Korva.” 

“Then it seems you have more knowledge of the situation than I.” 

He frowns; two guards grip your wrists, and a metal device slowly descends from the ceiling. 

“Wasted energy, Captain. You might come to wish you hadn’t expended it in such a futile effort.” 

“Torture is expressly forbidden by the terms of the Seldonis Four convention governing treatment of prisoners of war–“ 

The man ignores you. He lifts a knife from his desk, looking it over. It’s the first time you see a gleam of light in his eyes. 

“Are you in good health? Do you have any physical ailments I should know about?” 

_I have a mechanical heart_ , you think, but say nothing. 

“From this point on, you will enjoy no privilege of rank, no privileges of person. From now on, I will refer to you only as “human.” You have no other identity.” 

The man approaches. With a few quick jabs of the knife, he cuts your clothes off. They pool around your ankles: the shreds of your past life. Your hands are shackled to the metal device above your head. Then the man presses a button, and you rise along with the device, the tips of your toes hanging just above the floor. 

_When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,_

Temperature, 39.1 degrees Celsius. 92% relative humidity, atmospheric pressure 102 kilopascals. Too hot for humans. Adequate for the Collective. 

An operating table. Numbness. A drill presses against the side of your head; when it breaks through your skull, you don’t feel it. The insertion of a microchip, a tube, a headpiece. As the color drains from your face, a metallic tang curls into your nostrils. Everything here is titanium, tungsten, steel. You hope that your heart – a mechanical one, for the last 40 years – is just as strong. 

Cold voices cut through the humid air. 

[[Adapt. Adapt. Adapt.]] 

_No_ , you think, eyes swelling with tears. 

[[Change. Change. Change.]] 

_Must give us pause._

You sit in a chair facing the man, on the other side of his desk. He is eating a hard-boiled egg with a spoon and talking about his childhood. You struggle to listen; you have just swallowed something vile, but it’s also the only food you’ve been given since you got here. 

“I remember the first time I ate a live taspar. I was six years old and living on the streets of Lakat, desperately trying to survive. Once, I found a taspar nest in the eave of a burnt-out building, with three eggs in it. I cracked one open on the spot and ate it, very much as you just did. I planned to save the other two… Of course, an older boy saw them and wanted them, and he got them. But he had to break my arm to do it.” 

The live taspar you have just swallowed seems to wriggle in your stomach. You want to throw up, but you force a smile at the man. 

“Whenever I look at you now, I won’t see a powerful Cardassian warrior. I will see a six year-old boy who is powerless to protect himself.” 

“Be quiet,” he growls. 

“In spite of all you’ve done to me, I find you a pitiable man.” 

“Picard, stop it, or I will turn this on and leave you here in agony all night.” 

“Ah! You called me Picard.” Not _human_. 

“What are the Federation’s defense plans for Minos Korva?” 

You glance up at a row of circular lights above the man’s head. It’s another torture device; there are four lights, but he’s been trying to convince you that there are five. 

“There are four lights,” you say, almost delirious with glee. 

The man looks angry now, and he presses a button on a small device, sending shocks of pain through your nervous system. 

“There are five lights. How many do you see now?” 

_Four_ , you think, but you say something that will sting him even more. 

“You are six years old, weak and helpless! You cannot hurt me!” 

“How. Many?” 

He shifts a dial on the pain device. You open your lips, and a song comes out. 

“ _Sur le Pont D’Avignon, on y danse_ –“ 

_There's the respect,_

[[I am Locutus –]] 

“This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the starship Enterprise,” you scream. You want to break a hole through whatever mental blocks they’ve placed on your mind, whatever keeps the words from coming out. 

[[Of Borg. Resistance –]] 

“Do not surrender! I repeat: do not –“ 

[[Is futile. Your life, as it has been –]] 

“Enterprise,” you hiss, breathing shallowly, “Do you hear me?” 

[[Is over. From this time forward, you will service]] 

“Can you hear me?” 

[[Us.]] 

_That makes calamity of so long life._

“I’ve just received word; there’s been a battle. The Enterprise is burning in space. The invasion of Minos Korva has been successful.” 

“I want to see a neutral representative!” 

“There is no such person,” The man says, and he is right. In any conflict, there is never a truly neutral representative, much less one coming to save you now. “The word will be that you perished with your crew. No one will ever know that you are here with us, as you will be for a long, long time. You do, however, have a choice. You can live out your life in misery, held here, subject to my whims… Or you can live in comfort… It’s up to you. A life of ease, of reflection and intellectual challenge, or this.” 

Your throat is dry as sandpaper, but you croak out the words: 

“What must I do?” 

“Nothing, really.” The man gently draws your attention up to the light fixture. “Tell me how many lights you see.” 

You squint. _Four_ , you think. 

“How many? How many lights?” 

_Four?_

“This is your last chance,” he snaps. “The guards are coming. Don’t be a stubborn fool. How many?” 

_Four – no. No, wait. There’s… There’s another one._

***

Jean-Luc woke with a gasp. His eyes stung, and his throat was dry. The back of his head felt damp against his pillow. Sitting up, he wiped the sweat away, blinking into the darkness of the empty bedroom. 

“Computer, lights.” 

The room came into full color around him, with its maroon walls and white light fixtures. Nothing looked out of place. Jean-Luc sighed and massaged his shoulders. _A dream_ , he thought. Or rather, a nightmare. As much as he would have wanted to fall back asleep, he knew he wasn’t about to, so he got out of bed and wandered over to the replicator. 

“Tea, Earl Grey – ah, actually… Cancel that. Chamomile tea. Warm.” 

The drink materialized before him. Jean-Luc sat down at his living room table, warming his hands on the cup. Although he tried to concentrate on practical matters, like tomorrow’s schedule, the dream lingered in his thoughts. He wished that the officer on duty would call him to the bridge, or that Starfleet would send him another communiqué. Even Q would be a welcome distraction. 

“What am I thinking?” He muttered. 

“I don’t know,” a voice called. “But that sounds like an unhelpful question to ask yourself.” 

Picard smiled ruefully. 

“I assume that isn’t Counselor Troi.” 

To his surprise, in a burst of light, she was there at his table. 

“It could be.” 

“No–“ He laughed, shielding his eyes with one hand. “No, Q, that’s all right. I doubt you could manage Deanna’s calm composure, anyway.” 

Deanna Troi’s face contorted into a grimace. 

“Rude.” 

Picard blinked, and Q had turned into himself, wearing a dark blue bathrobe and fuzzy slippers. He pointed disdainfully at Picard’s tea. 

“You must be having a bad night, if you’re drinking that wilted leaf juice.” 

Jean-Luc snorted. He wasn’t wrong. 

“What, no retort?” 

“Not this time, I suppose.” 

Q fell quiet, but not for long. Eventually, he asked, “What is the appeal of tea?” 

Picard stood up, happy for an excuse to think about something other than his dream. He went to the replicator and asked for an Earl Grey, then brought it over to Q. 

“Try this,” he said, setting the teacup in front of the entity. Q immediately looked circumspect. 

“It isn’t the same color. Why do I get a different type of tea?” 

“I’m only drinking this because it helps me sleep. That’s caffeinated, but it tastes much better.” 

Q considered this, lifting the teacup. 

“So you’re trying to keep me awake, are you?” He drawled. 

Picard crossed his arms, smirking. 

“I thought that the Q don’t sleep.” 

Q paused, mid-sip, to glare at him. He appeared more amused than offended. 

“Touché.” 

They drank in silence for a while, occasionally glancing at the other. Picard was fine with the quiet; Q seemed like he wanted to say something, but then again, there was always that sense of barely-restrained energy about him, rippling beneath the surface. 

“Do you often dream?” 

That wasn’t the question he had expected, but Q had correctly assumed that a nightmare had roused him from sleep. 

“No more or less than anyone else, I don’t think. When I was a child, before I joined Starfleet, my dreams were fanciful. I suppose my imagination doesn’t need that playground anymore, with so much to discover here.” 

Q raised his teacup in a toast. 

“You haven’t seen the half of it.” 

Picard glanced out the window, resting his cheek on one hand. 

“Why the melancholy, _mon Capitaine_? All this over a dream?” 

“It brought back unpleasant memories,” Picard admitted. He gave a soft yawn and sat back in his chair. “Do you think it is better to travel the galaxy and face its dangers in the hope of encountering beauty, or to not go at all?” 

The entity’s smile ignited, a blue flame on a gas burner. 

“You know my answer to that.” 

Picard supposed he did. This was Q, the wayward son of the universe who had explored its furthest reaches, who simultaneously courted danger and carried it in his pocket. 

“Hmm.” 

“And I think you know yours, too, Picard. You would never have gone into space if you didn’t believe it was worthwhile.” 

Jean-Luc pursed his lips. He loved his work, his ship, and its crew. But when he thought about the hardships he’d endured, he sometimes wondered if he would have preferred a life on Earth. A Shakespeare quote came to mind. _Whether ‘tis better to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune… Or by opposing, end them?_

As many times as the question arose, his answer remained the same. There is no life without risk. It had taken a near-death experience and a lucid dream, courtesy of Q, to convince him of that. And here Q was: the strangest being Picard had ever met, sitting at his table. Yet for the life of him, Picard could still not understand _why_. 

“Are you familiar with Fermi’s Paradox?” He asked. 

“As I recall, one of your human scientists, pre-First Contact, observed a contradiction between the high probability of extraterrestrial life and the lack of observable evidence.” Q smiled. “A little outdated, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, but that’s not what I wanted to say. What is your explanation for it?” 

“That depends on the circumstances. Do you mean for humans, or in general?” 

“…In general.” 

“Many sentient species have not reached the level of technological development that enables them to make first contact. Your own Federation avoids those planets. Other species are too far away in space-time. Let’s say a planet in the Delta Quadrant transmits a message into space, and by some miracle, it reaches Earth. Would you go looking for that planet?” 

“Perhaps, but it would be an enormous undertaking. It takes at least thirty years for a Federation vessel at warp to reach the Delta Quadrant.” 

“Right. There are other reasons, too. Some civilizations use up their planet’s resources or are destroyed by natural disasters before they can make first contact. Others have appalling radio technology and are incapable of transmitting signals properly, much less receiving them. Then there are advanced civilizations that prefer to live in seclusion, like the Prophets – who, I might add, don’t seem to understand normal communication.” 

Picard chuckled softly. 

“You aren’t fond of the Prophets, are you?” 

“They've got a few screws loose. Who lives inside a wormhole, anyway?” 

“Q, among the possible explanations for Fermi’s Paradox, I notice that you haven’t mentioned one.” 

“That alien civilizations do not communicate because it is dangerous for them to do so.” 

Picard waited expectantly. 

“That should be obvious. Your species is lucky that it first communicated with the Vulcans; they’re as naïve about other civilizations as you are.” 

“But isn’t the existence of the Federation proof that intergalactic species can coexist peacefully?” 

Q rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, just as the Federation-Klingon War was proof that they can’t. Come on, Picard. You’re cleverer than that. Sure, alien species can get along, but there’s no guarantee that they will. Many civilizations choose not to communicate because they fear that another species would rather destroy them than risk the chance of being destroyed.” 

_Strength is irrelevant; resistance is futile_ , Jean-Luc thought. _Tell me how many lights you see._

“Of course, your Federation provides a sweet little precedent to the fact that coexistence is possible. Perhaps you’ll even luck out with the Romulans. But you may not succeed with all civilizations.” 

Picard couldn’t tell if Q was warning him about the Borg, the Cardassians, or the Dominion. 

“Starfleet will deal with that problem when it arises.” 

“Careful. There are species out there that are worth staying away from.” 

Picard glared at him. 

“I know there are. What about the Continuum? You’ve been aware of humanity’s existence for eons. Why did you make contact with us when you did?” 

The entity laughed, voice tinged with surprise. 

“Is _that_ why you asked about Fermi’s Paradox?” Q tipped his invisible hat to Picard. “The Continuum wanted to observe you further, so it sent me to test you.” 

“Then your trial of humanity was an act?” 

“I wouldn’t put it so harshly. Call it a teaching experience. If you’re asking whether I intended to destroy your species, though, the answer is no.” 

Jean-Luc took a sip of tea. The frown had not left his face. 

“So you weren’t willing to eliminate us, but you sent us to face the Borg?” 

Gently, Q bowed his head. 

“To prove that humans had a lot to learn about how dangerous the universe is. The Borg were aware of your existence _before_ I sent you to them; they were already making plans to attack your precious Earth.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?” Picard demanded. 

“You needed to deal with it on your own. What does your Prime Directive say again? No interfering with the internal development of alien civilizations.” 

“It was already interference, Q! 18 members of my crew died during our first encounter with the Borg.” 

“Didn’t I already promise you that I wouldn’t intervene any more?” Q scoffed. “Fat lot of good it did me, too. The Continuum forbade me from interfering in human affairs. By then, it was as tired of hearing about you as it was of me.” 

Jean-Luc watched the entity, hesitating on his words. Meanwhile, Q’s tea had gone cold. He waved a hand over the cup, and a wisp of steam rose from the surface of the liquid. It was so easy for him to change the nature of reality. Jean-Luc no longer felt uncertain about voicing his thoughts. 

“Is that why you’ve never shown up when we actually needed help?” 

“Would you have wanted me to?” 

Q, _damn him_ , looked bemused. Jean-Luc realized he sounded accusatory, but his question was valid. Q couldn’t deny the facts, and if it took a tense conversation to get him to explain why he kept coming back, then Jean-Luc would press the issue. 

“I just think it’s ironic that when the Enterprise has been in life-or-death situations, you didn’t lift a finger. But when there was some opportunity for you to menace this ship during a peaceful moment under the pretense of “teaching a lesson,” you leapt at the opportunity.” 

“There is one exception to that.” 

“The spatial anomaly?” 

“Yes. The Continuum called it a final challenge. If you could figure it out, then the Q would no longer threaten your species. If not, humanity would have been destroyed. The Continuum didn’t expect you to succeed.” 

Picard stiffened. He’d had his suspicions, but Q had never outright said that his civilization had almost annihilated humanity. One unsolved riddle could have led to tragedy, yet Q had prevented that. 

“Why did you help me?” Jean-Luc murmured. 

“I had to give you a hint, or the challenge wouldn’t have been fair. After all, you aren’t higher life-forms yet.” 

“So it was about morality?” 

Q shook his head. 

“It was about not letting you die.” 

Jean-Luc didn’t remember setting his teacup down, but the clinking was unmistakable. Q’s words fell on him like an epiphany, echoing in the deepest parts of himself. 

Regret twisted in his gut. At last, Jean-Luc understood that there was no ulterior motive behind Q’s help with the anomaly; he simply hadn’t wanted Jean-Luc to die. Perhaps that had been the error on his part – that he’d seen this being as so alien, so _other_ , that he didn’t think Q was capable of compassion. 

“I misjudged you,” Jean-Luc admitted. “I’m sorry.” 

“There’s no harm done. My misjudgments have been a few orders of magnitude higher than yours.” 

“But you saved humanity.” 

“Yes,” Q said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. “Where does that leave our species?” 

“As tentative allies.” It sounded more like a question than a statement. “The better question is: where does that leave you and me?” 

Q shrugged, but the gesture no longer looked so flippant. 

“As friends, if you wish it.” 

“I would like that very much.” 

Jean-Luc rested his arms on the table, his features relaxing into a genuine smile. After a moment, he finally managed to tell Q what had kept him awake that night. 

“I dreamed about the Borg,” he murmured. “And the Cardassians.” 

Q scrutinized his face. Sighing, he rose from his chair and snapped his fingers. They were both wearing Starfleet Uniforms. Q gestured for him to get up. 

“Come on, Jean-Luc. You should see something.” 

The suddenness of the request made him wonder. 

“What do you intend to do?” Picard asked. 

“Why, to stop time,” Q breathed, “And show you a moment better than this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Can you tell I wrote this entire chapter just to talk about Fermi's Paradox?~~
> 
> I rewatched Best of Both Worlds recently, and ew, the Borg are the worst. So in other words, they're great villains. :P
> 
> The dialogue in Picard's dream is from "Best of Both Worlds, Pt. 1" and "Chain of Command, Pt. 2." Creds to Shakespeare for the _Hamlet_ quote.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are much appreciated <3
> 
> I made a playlist to go with this story [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/tolstoyevsky/playlist/4Ylcq7OyuADyH31M3wiPNO). Art is from [Starlock](http://14180.work/post/141879644857/star-trek-the-next-generation-101-02-110), who's made a really cool alternate design for Q. I have a bunch of other Star Trek playlists on Spotify, so check them out if you'd like! :)


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